


If Food be the Music of Love

by michelleisat



Series: B.A.P: Insecurities and Conflict [2]
Category: B.A.P
Genre: Arguing, Best Friends, Gen, Making Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-13
Updated: 2013-11-13
Packaged: 2018-01-01 08:59:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1042942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/michelleisat/pseuds/michelleisat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on the premise, "What if Daehyun and Youngjae really weren't on the best terms throughout LOE?" What was that all about, and how did they work it out?</p>
            </blockquote>





	If Food be the Music of Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [roebling](https://archiveofourown.org/users/roebling/gifts), [suitofarmour](https://archiveofourown.org/users/suitofarmour/gifts).



> So I don't know if they really were fighting, but [what if they really were](http://michelleisat.tumblr.com/post/61249758533/iwillkeepitlow-youngjae-stop-ignoring-your)? Could it have anything to do with insecurity?
> 
> Also, I just wanted an excuse to write about food :)
> 
>  ~
> 
> For my amazing beta-readers and cheerleaders, roebling and suitofarmour. I also owe roebling for getting me into fandom in the first place and encouraging me to write from the very start! Suitofarmour, thank you for encouraging me to write this fic and giving me so, so many writing ideas. You guys are the best. <3333

“Where are you going?”

Daehyun winced. He’d hoped to sneak out the door without anyone noticing. It was only gonna be a little while, and he was pretty sure that if he could slip out, no one would even miss him.

He was also pretty sure the hyungs would never let him go if they did catch him. He turned around, feeling a nervous smile spread on his face. He never did it on purpose, but this smile had gotten him out of trouble many times.

“Um. To the 7–11?”

Himchan’s eyes burned right through his head. Daehyun pictured smoke rising from himself — like he was paper, before him stood a magnifying glass, and Himchan-hyung was the sun.

“It’s just downstairs.” Daehyun shifted uncomfortably. “It’ll only take a minute to the lift. Two minutes to the shop. I’ll grab what I want from the counter — chocolate? Milk chocolate. Cadbury’s milk chocolate with extra hazelnuts!” he clarified, because Himchan was still glaring at him. Not good. Now might be a good time to bring out the finger guns. Pew! “I’ll run back up, and I’m done. What’s the problem?”

Himchan continued glaring. Then he folded his arms, turned his head and started to open his mouth. Daehyun lunged.

“Don’t tell Yongguk-hyung.” Daehyun begged in a stage whisper. “He’ll kill me.”

Daehyun thought he heard something like, “I’ll kill you” come from his flailing hyung.

“But I’m not scared of you,” he said, still whispering into Himchan’s ear.

“What the flippers is going on one hour to interview time?”

Daehyun rolled his eyes. Only Youngjae said things like “What the flippers,” because only Youngjae thought it was funny.

Himchan made another muffled sound. “What?” said Youngjae, leaning in closer to them.

Daehyun let Himchan go.

“Your best friend wants to screw up our first interview here!”

Yongguk-hyung, a translator, and some crew — both TS and local — looked at them. Yongguk raised an eyebrow. Daehyun knew he should be scared of Yongguk-hyung, but Himchan-hyung looked so horrified he couldn’t stop laughing.

“You know the locals didn’t understand you, right?” Youngjae said, frowning. “And our guys know you.”

“It still leaves a bad impression,” Himchan hissed. He straightened his back, adjusted his clothes and flashed everyone a smile.

If I had Himchan-hyung’s smile, Daehyun thought grouchily, I would be eating chocolate right now.

“What I meant to say,” said Himchan, neatening the cuffs of his jacket and grabbing Youngjae, “is that your best friend is hungry and wants to go to the 7–11. Tell him it’s a stupid idea, please?” He shoved Youngjae in Daehyun’s direction and walked back to Yongguk.

Ah, Youngjae. Youngjae might listen. Youngjae might even sneak down with him. Daehyun hadn’t managed to talk him into mischief for quite awhile, but it was worth a shot. But before he could say anything, Youngjae wagged a finger.

“Not a word out of you,” said Youngjae. Daehyun bit his lips. There was a tone Jae had when you could argue with him, and there was a tone he had when you couldn’t. This was one of the latter times. Daehyun couldn’t help feeling a bit sad. He missed misbehaving with Youngjae.

Youngjae’s eyes were kind though, when he took Daehyun by the arm. “I got you a surprise.”

Daehyun liked surprises. He let Youngjae lead him away from the door. “I hope it’s food. Your Jung Hyung-don impression won’t help me now.”

“Hah-hah, very funny, lamebrain. It’s a drink. It has enough sugar to get you through the interview. I hope.”

“You are our genius and I love you, Youngjae,” Himchan called.

Daehyun chose to ignore the slights.

Youngjae walked to the bedside table and picked up a clear plastic bag. It was filled with caramel-coloured, milky liquid. A string, bright green, tied a straw to the bag and secured it shut.

“What is it?” said Daehyun, peering. He had never seen a drink in a bag. Youngjae held the package up to eye level, helpfully.

“It’s a local drink,” Youngjae said, bringing the bag down and unwinding the string. “I know you love food, and I know Singapore’s famous for it. So it’s a pity we ate room service last year, right? Except for chilli crabs.” Mmm, chilli crabs. That was tonight. Daehyun couldn’t wait. Youngjae popped the straw into the drink and offered to Daehyun. “Try it?”

Daehyun took a sip. He was surprised. He’d been sure it was milk tea, but it wasn’t. He took another. What could it be?

“Ah, why are you getting Daehyun yummy milk tea and not your hyungs?” said Himchan.

“It’s not tea, hyung!” Youngjae had that excited look now, and he was pointing at the drink and jumping up and down. He turned to the local crew. “Um, could … you … explain?” he said, in careful English. He pointed to the drink vigourously. “ _Yuan yang_.”

“Oh!” said a lady. “Tea and coffee. Mandarin ducks!”

Daehyun knew his English was bad, but he didn’t think it was that bad. “I’m drinking duck tea and coffee?”

Youngjae fell back on the bed, laughing. Great, thought Daehyun. By the time Youngjae was finished, it would be interview time and he would never know what he was drinking.

“He thinks,” said Youngjae in English, looking up from the bed at the lady and clutching his stomach. “He thinks – ” Another spasm of laughter. “Duck flavour.”

All the local crew laughed. Daehyun felt his ears heat up. He didn’t mind if Jae laughed at him, but these were people he’d just met. He’d thought too, from the way Jae had taken his hand, that this was gonna be a nice surprise. He pursed his lips. Never trust Yoo Youngjae.

“No, no,” he heard the lady say. Or at least that’s what he thought she said. He didn’t know what was going on anymore. She rattled off a string of English to Youngjae and the translator. They were nodding, but the hyungs looked just as confused as he felt.

“It’s the name, Daehyun-ssi,” the translator finally said. “The name means Mandarin ducks.”

“Yup,” said Youngjae, nodding. He scrambled up to the bedside table for their iPad. “I read up on this. Did you know that Mandarin ducks mean loyalty to the Chinese? Because Mandarin ducks bond for life.”

It was just like Youngjae to be interested in stuff like this. It wasn’t a bad thing; Daehyun needed someone smart around him. Daehyun sat down and put his chin on Youngjae’s shoulder to read the iPad. He was surprised when Youngjae didn’t move away. Also, he didn’t understand what loyalty had to do with tea and coffee.

“The birds roam in pairs, and the male and female look very different. This metaphor of a pair of matching, but opposite, items gives the drink its name,” Daehyun read aloud. Ah.

“Ah,” said Yongguk, too. “That’s a nice image.”

“It is,” sighed Himchan. Daehyun could almost hear the hearts floating from Himchan’s voice. He thought he understood. He didn’t understand a whole lot about Himchan-hyung, but this he understood.

“I wish Korean food had such stories. It’s very interesting,” said Youngjae. He shut the iPad and set it back on the nightstand.

“I’m sure they do. We just never bothered to find out ’cos, you know. It’s all around us.” Daehyun paused to take the final sip. He was sad to see it go. “Like, we take it for granted, ’cos it’s always there? But when we go to new places, things are interesting … ’cos it’s all new.”

Youngjae stared at him.

“You can be pretty deep sometimes,” Youngjae finally said, without sarcasm. No sarcasm? _What’s going on?_ Daehyun thought. Was he in some kind of sugar coma? The drink _had_ been very sweet.

“Shall we go?” said Yongguk-hyung. He was smiling. “Himchan, please get the maknaes.”

Himchan sprang up and ran out of the room, calling for Jongup. Daehyun walked out with everyone else. Coma or not, this was gonna be a good interview.

~

“Get up, moron.”

That was Youngjae’s voice telling him to get up. All right then, still dreaming.

Daehyun rolled onto his back. Then he leaped up, crying out. There was cold water all over his face, dripping down his chin, onto his shirt.

“The hell, Jae?”

“Now you know what that feels like.” Youngjae was holding an empty glass and his smirk was too self-satisfied to bear, especially when the sky was still dark. _The sky is still dark. Youngjae is waking me and I_ _’_ _m still dreaming,_ thought Daehyun.

“Hurry, the hair-noona will want us in two hours,” said Youngjae, chucking a rolled-up pair of jeans at Daehyun’s chest. Oof. “Get dressed and don’t take all morning like you usually do.”

Daehyun had tried his best, but Youngjae’d still pulled him out of the bathroom before he was done, going on about how _no one knows us here so who cares if your hair is unstyled_. Then he’d dragged them past the hyungs’ room, telling Daehyun to be quiet, as if he hadn’t been the one blabbering earlier.

“They can’t know,” Youngjae whispered, as they tiptoed through the corridor.

“Who can’t know what, hyung?”

Junhong stood in front of his door, pale and squinting. He peered at them, as if they were small things from such great height.

“Oh, breakfast,” he said, after a beat, answering his own question. He scrunched his nose. “Can I come too?”

The morning air was chilly as it hit Daehyun. He wrapped his arms around himself. He wished he’d brought a cardigan — who knew this place could be cold?

He really wished he’d brought a cardigan when they sat down at the coffee shop. He didn’t understand how it could be cold with all these people packed in. He looked with envy at Junhong, who had his chin buried in a scarf.

“Why is the AC _freezing_?”

Youngjae shrugged. “Must be to make up for the heat in the daytime. Why don’t you get a hot drink?” He pushed the menu towards Daehyun. Daehyun didn’t even look at it.

“Could I have more of that _yuan yang_?” he asked with glee.

Youngjae laughed. “Sure,” he said, all creased eyes, balled cheeks and blinding teeth, shaking. Daehyun realised he hadn’t seen Youngjae’s laugh this close in a long time. “But you probably want to get some food, too.”

Daehyun’s eyes widened at the menu. There was just so much. After Daehyun stared at it for a whole minute, dumbfounded at the choice, Youngjae guffawed again and pushed him and Junhong to the counter. Four people with aprons were running around behind it, preparing food. There were funnels of steam rising from stacked bamboo baskets, and inside each basket were little cakes and dumplings and rolls. A tall glass case was filled with buns.

At the side, a mountain of yellow stuff stood as tall as Daehyun on the counter. It looked like — but it couldn’t be.

“What’s that?” he asked Youngjae.

“Butter.”

Daehyun nearly choked.

“Jesus,” said Youngjae, throwing his hands up in the air. “We’ll miss our concert if you guys are just gonna stand there. Let me order. I heard this is classic.”

Youngjae said something to the ahjussi at the counter. Daehyun saw the ahjussi take a spatula — a tiny one, in comparison to the mountain — and refill a wooden bowl with the butter. Then he cut two slabs and placed them on the softest, fluffiest white bread Daehyun had ever seen. A translucent yellow-green jam went on top, another piece of bread, and onto the grill it all went.

After a few minutes, Youngjae picked up a tray with that, two eggs on two dishes, a teaspoon, and a steaming cup of _yuan yang_. He motioned for Daehyun and Junhong to pick their trays up. Daehyun hurried to get his.

They made their way back to their seats. Everything on his tray was fiddly and teetered as he threaded through the crowd.

Daehyun looked at the back of Youngjae’s head. It’d been a really long time since they’d been out together, just the two of them. They’d used to sneak out for food when they were trainees, both when they were and weren’t supposed to be gone. This reminded him of those times. Sure, Junhong had tagged along this time but, Daehyun guessed, he wasn’t supposed to. At least, Youngjae hadn’t planned it …

“Be careful, hyung!”

Junhong caught his arm, just as he was gonna walk into someone.

Daehyun thanked him and felt guilty. He didn’t get why it was important that Jae hadn’t planned for Junhong to come along.

They sat down to the meal. Youngjae immediately began telling them what to do. He separated the two plates on his tray.

“One is for the eggshells. The other is for you to crack the eggs into.”

“Are they raw, hyung?” Junhong said. His eyes were huge, even without eyeliner. Daehyun frowned. He kinda thought this that was his job — to ask wide-eyed, dumb questions when Youngjae became an encyclopaedia.

Daehyun stirred his drink as Youngjae laughed and playfought with Junhong. The spoon clattered at the sides of his cup. He’d really thought he was over this. Wasn’t he a survivor? He’d come a long way from Busan. This was the first place he’d got on a plane to, and now he was back. He’d seen so much more of the world in-between, made mistakes and fixed them himself, felt the fans’ screaming swell into waves and carry him up to the skies …

He’d been ready to do that all on his own. And he could. It wasn’t like he didn’t have the other guys. Plus, he and Youngjae were still friends.

“Aren’t you gonna crack yours open, hyung?”

Daehyun smiled his kindest smile. “Of course, Junhonggie.”

It turned out that the eggs weren’t raw, they were half-boiled. But not like the half-boiled Daehyun knew. The whites of these were runny too, but cooked so they were opaque. Youngjae taught him to pour a thick sauce like joseon ganjang in it and eat it all with a teaspoon.

“It’s delicious. Thank you, Youngjae,” said Daehyun, truthfully.

“No biggie. But why’re you being so formal? Have a sandwich, dumbass.”

“Yeah. Youngjae-hyung told me when we were reading up on this place that the stuff in it is egg jam. More eggs. But the cool part is, it doesn’t taste like eggs at all!”

Somewhere in all this egginess, Youngjae left for the toilet. Daehyun leaned over to Junhong. He’d been thinking through an entire half-sandwich how to say this and hadn’t come up with anything good; so he thought he should just say it directly.

“Do you think Youngjae’s mad at me?”

Junhong tilted his head. “Why do you think he’s mad at you? You’re weird, hyung. He planned a whole month to show you the food here.”

Daehyun gripped his sandwich and tried to keep his mouth from dropping open.

“Oh! Well, um, maybe not now? In the last few months? Maybe?” He’d squashed his sandwich, and the butter-jam mix’d gotten over all his fingers. “I dunno, things’ve been weird. We used to hang out all the time. But sometimes when I talk to him now he … doesn’t want to? I dunno.” _He spends more time with you now_ , Daehyun wanted to say. Ugh.

How did you talk about such things with people who weren’t Youngjae?

“Oh hyung, I didn’t know,” Junhong said, so sadly that Daehyun wished he hadn’t opened his big mouth. “Why do you think he’s doing that?”

“I don’t know.” Daehyun sucked the jam and butter off his fingers. At least something in this conversation wasn’t terrible. “Wish I wasn’t so dumb, maybe I could figure this out.”

“If you’re dumb, then I’m dumb, hyung! I didn’t notice,” Junhong said, earnestly. He looked around the shop. “Uh, you know, Youngjae-hyung said to me — ” Then his eyebrows went up and he closed his lips. Youngjae slid back into his seat a moment later.

It wasn’t cold when they hurried back, but Daehyun didn’t care. He just wished he knew what Junhong knew.

~

Daehyun was born for the stage. But behind it, when chaos churned with anxiety, things could move like a nightmare. All the people rushing here and there, they changed — Los Angeles, New York, Yokohama, Hong Kong — and Daehyun would never stop craving something sure.

“Yongguk-hyung!” he said, as Yongguk walked past. He really didn’t feel good.

Yongguk looked back at the sound. He looked flustered. Daehyun wondered if he should really be bothering him at this moment, but he didn’t know who else to talk to.

“Ah, yes? Daehyun-ah.” Yongguk squared his shoulders, a calm facade shuttering over his features. This wasn’t good. Yongguk-hyung must have a thousand other things to do.

“Ah, it’s okay, hyung. You must be busy now.”

“No. It’s alright, Daehyunnie. You don’t look well. Nothing comes before our memb–”

“YONGGUK! WHERE ARE YOU?” It was Manager Kang.

“Shit.” Yongguk grimaced. “I’m sorry, Daehyun, I have to go. But you shouldn’t keep this in. Himchan!”

“Yeah?” Himchan appeared, as if out of nowhere. How Himchan-hyung was everywhere with never a hair out of place, Daehyun would never know.

“Something’s bothering Daehyunnie. Take care of it, will you?” Yongguk squeezed Himchan’s hand.

Himchan nodded and Yongguk ran off, giving Himchan his big, gummy grin. Daehyun couldn’t help feeling a pang of envy.

“Ah, wassup, squirt,” Himchan drawled.

“Hyung, I–”

“Himchan-hyung,” said Jongup, suddenly appearing and tugging at Himchan’s sleeve. “Chocolate-noona’s calling for you.”

“What is it now? Why does that woman always want me?”

“Junhong’s hair’s gone crazy. We can’t fix it.”

“I feel like a second stylist sometimes. They should pay me twice what they do.” Himchan put his hands on Jongup’s shoulders. “Jonguppie, tell her I’ll be there in awhile, okay? Daehyun needs to talk.”

“I … ” Jongup looked guiltily to the side. “I can’t, I–”

“Yes, you can,” said Himchan, clapping Jongup’s shoulder and waving him off. “Now, Daehy–”

“Himchan-hyu–.”

“Can’t she wait a second? Daehyun needs me!” Himchan snapped. He rubbed his temples. “I’m sorry I raised my voice, Jonguppie.”

“It’s okay, hyung. But I’ve tried,” said Jongup, helplessly. “She won’t have anyone else. She says it’s a fashion emergency. I’m sorry, Daehyun-hyung.” Jongup looked at him with those innocent eyes. Daehyun couldn’t bring himself to be angry.

“It’s so difficult to be in demand,” Himchan sighed. He ran a hand through his hair.

“When you’re done preening, hyung, you can come to the dressing room.” Jongup raised his eyebrows and ran in before Himchan could do anything to him.

Daehyun wanted to be patient. Really. But he was getting fed up. He made an annoyed sound in his throat and stepped back, only to collide with a crew member. He jumped, stuttering apologies. The crew member blurted apologies back and ran off. Everyone was so busy.

“I’m so sorry. You’ll be okay, kid?” Himchan-hyung gripped his arm and looked him in the eye.

Daehyun nodded. They all meant well. It was just that the show was gonna begin. He watched Himchan stride to the dressing rooms. Then he shrank into a corner, out of everybody’s way.

~

Daehyun stood in front of Youngjae’s bed with a glass full of ice-cold water. But before he got to the part where he threw it all over Youngjae’s face, he remembered.

He remembered standing here, right over Youngjae’s bed in another hotel in this same city, threatening to show Youngjae’s underwear to the public. He was never _actually gonna_ show it, but Youngjae had gone and offered Daehyun’s naked torso for all to see. It was just uncalled for.

From then on, he’d told himself, in countless hotel rooms when the sun was high in the sky and Youngjae was snoring and Yongguk-hyung was ringing every five minutes telling him the bus was leaving soon and _where were they_ ; when he was folding and putting clothes in Youngjae’s luggage and yelling at Youngjae to WAKE UP — that he what he was gonna do was just … revenge.

He threw the glass of freezing water onto Youngjae’s face. Youngjae didn’t budge. The pig could not, apparently, wake himself up more than one day in a row.

“Get up, dummy,” Daehyun said. “I know you’ve woken up. Don’t pretend like you haven’t.”

“Why did you wake meeeeeeeeeeee,” Youngjae whined. Without opening his eyes, he wiped his face on the pillow, flipped the pillow dry-side-up and continued sleeping. Daehyun made a face. For someone in charge of keeping the dorm organised, Youngjae could be pretty gross.

“Because you wanted me to?” Daehyun said, exasperated. “You were so insistent last night, what did you want us to do?” He had a pretty good idea by now, actually. But he had to play along, it’d make Youngjae happy.

Youngjae sprang up like he’d been electrified. He knocked his head on Daehyun’s.

“Sorry, sorry,” he said. “Why don’t you go get — oh, you’re already changed. Why did I expect anything else? Okay I’m going to — shit.”

His hair and clothes and limbs were a mess. He’d hooked his foot in the bedsheets and dragged it all on the floor along with him. Daehyun’s memories flashed back to a younger, plumper Youngjae, in white t-shirts and floppy blond hair.

“IDIOT,” Daehyun laughed, unhooking the sheets from Youngjae’s foot and gathering them up. “Go change! You wanted to be out of here five minutes ago.”

~

Youngjae was running this way and that down the street, singing made-up songs and pretending he was an airplane or huge annoying bird, Daehyun didn’t know which.

People were staring at them. Daehyun was mortified.

“I’m fine,” Youngjae sang. “Thank you and you.”

Then Youngjae floated off into something of his own again, something a little wonderful. Daehyun loved the contours of his voice — low and rhythmic, full of the subtle swells and dips of R&B. Sometimes, if he really listened, Youngjae’s voice could murmur a calm magic to him. It swashed around him like the sea on a warm, salty day, lapping gently at his feet and fingertips.

“We’re here.”

Youngjae spun and slid to a stop with a flourish. He gestured to a — well, it was a coffee shop, but it didn’t look like the one they went to yesterday. That had been bright and modern, filled with suits on their way to work. This was dimly lit, with simple furniture that peeled at the corners. There was one ahjumma in a corner, sipping her tea. Other than that, it was just them.

“I’m not letting you pick this time. You take forever, and there’s another place to show you to before we go. Sit.”

Daehyun did, obediently.

Youngjae came back with tea, _yuan yang_ (because Daehyun had insisted) and two tiny cakes. The cakes were rainbow-coloured and jelly-like, with a delicate translucency. Daehyun poked at one with a finger. It was soft.

He couldn’t break it though. It kind of reminded him of Junhong.

“It’s like Junhong,” Youngjae said. “Rainbow jello.”

Daehyun nodded happily.

“What you do is, you peel off the layers one-by-one. And you eat each layer separately.”

Daehyun didn’t know whether to be puzzled or excited at the thought of eating Junhong layer-by-layer. “Like this?” he said, peeling off a red layer and trying to put it in his mouth. It was hard though. The cake kept getting stuck to his fingers.

“No! No. No,” said Youngjae, getting up in Daehyun’s business, shaking his head and waving his hand no. “Like this.” He peeled off a yellow piece, holding it gingerly by the corner. Then he tilted his head back and opened his mouth wide, wider than his whole fun-sized face. Youngjae dangled the layer over his mouth and, after a rather hammy pause, dropped it in.

Youngjae nodded and gestured to Daehyun. “You try.”

Daehyun tilted his head backwards, layer positioned at the ready. He got as far as parting his lips before collapsing into giggles.

“I can’t, I can’t!” Daehyun laughed. “This is so embarrassing!”

“You’re always saying that. It’s not. Nothing’s ever as embarrassing you think. No one’s here, Dae. Except her, and she doesn’t care.” Youngjae waved a hand the ahjumma.

The ahjumma didn’t even look up.

“Look, I’ll show you how much people don’t care. There’s more people out there, right?”

Youngjae stood up and sauntered out, hand in his pocket. He stopped in the middle of the road, swivelled round to face Daehyun, and (a car crashing through Youngjae — this vivid image — flashed through Daehyun’s mind and Daehyun’s heart stopped) dropped the layer casually into his mouth.

“Don’t do that!” Daehyun pleaded. It was a quiet street, but who knew what could happen? Youngjae was always doing things like this to him, thinking it was funny. Daehyun never did. “That’s _dangerous_.”

Youngjae just pointed and mocked him cruelly.

But eating the layers like this was enormous fun, once Daehyun got over himself. They did this ’till one cake was finished and started on the next, fighting over their favourite colours.

It’d just rained. It was cooling. The breeze blew through the leaves and it was humid, but not in a bad way. It felt like the wind was kissing dewdrops on Daehyun’s skin. The sun was shining on them, and everything was beautiful. Daehyun knew in his heart that if he didn’t ask Youngjae now, he would never feel good enough to ask again.

And yet, he couldn’t work up the nerve, so he asked the easier question.

“Do you think I fucked up last night?”

“Huh?” Youngjae looked at him with his teacup in the air and his mouth hanging open. What a poophead, seriously.

“ _I Remember_. Do you think I messed up _I Remember_?”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Youngjae snorted, making his tea bubble. “Didn’t notice anything.”

“You’re horrible.” Daehyun was annoyed. “How did you miss it? I was pitchy. So pitchy.” He buried his face in his hands. “Manager Kang sings better.”

“I’ll tell him you said that.” Youngjae shook his head. “No, honestly, Dae. I heard some pitchiness. But it was just a few lines.”

“That’s a few more than you. You never go off-key.”

“I don’t have your lines,” said Youngjae, matter-of-factly. Daehyun bit his lip. Well, that was stupid of him. Youngjae didn’t seem to mind, but he personally hated how their lines were divided. And he hated his big mouth, too.

Youngjae set his teacup down and steepled his fingers. “I wouldn’t worry about it,” he said, carefully. “No one’s gonna fault you for going off-key a few times. You, _least_ of us. You have a beautiful voice. You’re sexy. And you’re too cool for something small like this to upset your fans.”

Daehyun didn’t feel going off-key was a small thing, not at all. And he didn’t feel cool either, much less _sexy_.

“I don’t think I’m cool.”

“You obviously don’t.” Youngjae sighed. “But you are. Just accept it, Dae. Your charisma isn’t going anywhere.” Youngjae stood up. He made like he wanted to say something, but sighed again and frowned off into space.

Daehyun tilted his head. What was Youngjae thinking about? Something was bothering him. Daehyun felt worried. He didn’t like seeing Youngjae like this. But before Daehyun could ask what it was, Youngjae smiled again and held out his hand.

“Let’s go to the next stop. We haven’t much time left.”

It was his old smile, the one that gave Daehyun confidence. Daehyun smiled back, hoping he could at least make Youngjae happy this way. He let Youngjae pull him up, hoping everything would be all right.

~

“I remember this place!” Daehyun said, too loudly. He cast a quick furtive glance around, but no one seemed to have noticed. Phew. “It looks so different in the day!” he continued, turning to Jae.

“Yep.” Youngjae nodded. Daehyun had to laugh. Youngjae nodded at everything. It wasn’t just one nod, either. His head would bob up and down from the base of his neck repeatedly, like he was some sort of weird bird. A weird, giant bird that went around flapping and making awkward jokes everywhere; not caring that it was strange, even though it should.

“The view is better at night,” Youngjae continued. Daehyun agreed. He didn’t think Jae should have bothered taking them here, personally. Forty dollars was a lot of money to stand on a boat in the sky. “But at least there isn’t the noise now.”

Daehyun laughed. “Some people call that music.”

“I don’t,” said Youngjae, grimacing. He sneered and made airquotes. “ _Shots, shots, shots, shots, shots, shots, shots!_ ”

Daehyun laughed again. He didn’t call it music either. God help the people who did. “Remember how we thought of going in to get those shots?”

“I do,” said Youngjae, nodding. Again. “Let’s do that now.”

“What?”

“I’m legal in Korea this time, right? And I was always legal here. Don’t be a goody two-shoes; let’s go.”

Well. He’d be damned if he was gonna let Yoo Youngjae call him a goody-two shoes. “ _You_ _’_ _re_ a goody two-shoes,” he said, and shoved Youngjae towards the club.

~

It was a bar during the day, and a lot nicer. From their seat by the window, they had a view of the city and the sea beyond.

“A mimosa?” said Daehyun, laughing. “What’re you trying to do, be all classy and shit?”

“I’m not trying to be classy. I am classy. You’re supposed to have mimosas at brunch.” Youngjae smirked. He leaned back, placed an arm over the back of his seat and crossed his legs; the perfect image of a gentleman. Except, not.

“You’re a failure. I’ll show you what a real man orders.” Daehyun pointed out his choice on the menu to a waiter. He snatched the menu away when Jae leaned over to look. “Nope. You’ll have to wait for enlightenment. You can think about how wrong you were in the meantime.”

Youngjae was not impressed when the drinks came.

“An 18 year-old Japanese whiskey, neat? Who drinks that in the morning? Do you  know how to appreciate it?” Youngjae crowed. "Call me when you’re secure in your manhood. I’ll be expecting you when we’re _forty_."

If the drink hadn’t cost so much, he would’ve thrown it in Youngjae’s face. He sipped, and tried not to choke visibly on the burn.

He wondered if it was a good time to ask Youngjae what had bothered him earlier. Jae looked happy with his fruity drink and, Daehyun supposed, he might never get another chance to talk to him seriously.

“Um, Jae? You looked kinda upset just now, is anything wrong?”

Youngjae didn’t reply. If anything, Youngjae looked uncomfortable. Had he said something wrong?

“Um, are you okay? You know you can talk to me, right?” Daehyun tried again. “You can tell me anything. I always got your back. You know that, don’t you?” He hoped it didn’t sound like he was pleading, but he didn’t think now was the time for pride either. It wasn’t about him now, was it? It was about Jae.

Youngjae looked up at him mid-sip with something Daehyun rarely saw in his eyes: fear.

Daehyun felt angry at whatever it was that had made Youngjae scared. Youngjae could look calmly at things that made him shake like a leaf. Whatever this was, it must be serious.

Youngjae sighed, heavily. “I guess I can’t put this off any longer.” He put his glass to the side. “I mean, it’s why I’ve been taking you out.”

“You mean you’ve been doing all this ’cos you wanted to talk to me?” Daehyun laughed, a little bitterly. “You know you can talk to me whenever, right? You don’t have to be nice.”

“What, I can’t be nice to my friend?”

“Oh please, you should be nice to me. But you aren’t.”

Youngjae looked hurt.

“Sorry,” Daehyun said, kicking himself mentally. It was a joke. “I didn’t mean that. You know what I mean. We bully each other all the time. But I know you care about me. No one cares more.”

“Have you really felt that way lately?” Youngjae stared at a piece of lint on his jeans. “I don’t know. I think I’ve been an ass.”

“But you are an ass,” joked Daehyun. He regretted it right away when he saw Youngjae’s face.

“No, come on. You know what I mean. Things have been strange between us.”

Daehyun’s heart pounded in his ears.

“Starting this tour wasn’t easy for me. It felt like we were debuting again. I dunno.” Youngjae shook his head. “Whole countries that have never seen us …. They’ve only seen us on their computer screens, you know? I had no idea if they would like the real us. The real me.”

“But,” said Daehyun. He was confused. “Don’t you tell me not to care what people think?”

“That’s in life, Daehyun. This is our job.” Youngjae said. He was twisting a napkin in his fingers slowly, methodically. “Himchan-hyung told me Americans like their stars sexy. And I wanted to do a good job. But I’m not sexy. ”

“You are–”

“No, I’m not. I lost weight. I took pointers from Himchan-hyung and Junhong. That’s all.”

“That’s nons–”

Youngjae held his hand up. “Let me finish. I should have told you this a long time ago. Remember all those times I said I didn’t mind you taking my lines? I wasn’t completely truthful.”

The pounding of Daehyun's heart turned thunderous.

“That's not what I meant! Dae?”

Daehyun willed the world back into focus. Jae was searching his face, wincing. “Are you okay? Daehyunnie? I'm sorry. I said that wrong. I don’t like your lines, you can have them. But I’ve always been — I still am — envious of you. That’s why it’s been so hard for me to be around you this tour.

“I’m not envious because I want your lines. I’m envious ’cause we sing the kind of songs you like. I’m not envious of your charisma. I don’t like having to … make … charisma I don’t have. Just to sing.”

“But you have charisma, Jae!” Daehyun almost yelled. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You’ve been great onstage this tour. Everyone’s been saying that. I see it too.”

Youngjae’s lips tightened into a line, as if he was trying to keep out what Daehyun was saying. Jae could be such a — really. This only made Daehyun more determined. He balled his fists.

“And those who haven’t seen? I’ll make sure they notice you. I won’t shut up about you in our interviews. This includes you, F.Y.I.”

“Huh?”

“ ‘Huh?’ Lemme spell it out for you. You’ve been awesome onstage.  Fullstop. So what if it’s things you picked up from hyung and Junhong?”

Youngjae looked skeptical. “It’s just tricks. Tricks and mannerisms.”

“What?” Daehyun was incredulous. “Okay, fine. Maybe it’s stuff you’re practicing now. Maybe you don’t feel like it’s _you_ yet. But it is you. It’s so hard for me to be that relaxed and just enjoy myself and, argh.” Daehyun held up a finger. “You know what? I’m gonna make sure you feel this. Everyday, offstage and on, I’ll show you how guys look up to you and the way girls stare. By the time we’re in Japan, you’ll know you have charisma. Just like I know you do.” Daehyun folded his arms. “… Idiot.”

Daehyun’s heart was still beating fast. Youngjae was frowning at him. Youngjae leaned forward in his chair, put his hands in his lap and just — frowned. Daehyun felt at a loss. Something inside him was fluttering up and searching for Youngjae’s response, only to be met with blankness.

He wanted to know badly because … he’d just put his all into that speech, and Jae was just sitting there.

“Well,” Youngjae finally said, letting out a breath. “I agree.”

“I’m glad we – wait. You agree you’re charismatic?” Daehyun said, blinking in confusion. Jae wasn’t supposed to agree this fast. “Or an idiot? Which I think you are, but–”

“Please,” said Youngjae, rolling his eyes. “Charismatic? Save it.” Then he bit his lips, as if trying to keep something in. “But … hah. You’d better savour this, Jung Daehyun. This is the one time I’ll say it. I’ve been a _huge_ idiot.

“I tried so hard to please the fans, but … I see I’ve neglected my biggest fan.” Youngjae smiled, a little sadly. “You really have been, all this time, even when they kept going at me about my belly.” He reached across the table. “Can you forgive me? Friends?”

Daehyun looked at the hand Youngjae was offering him and burst out laughing. Then he scrambled out of his chair and fell on Jae, tackling him into a bear hug.

“Best friends!” he exclaimed, happily. And he didn’t care if the whole world stared.

How had he talked himself into believing he could live idol life — his life — without Youngjae’s friendship? Well, of course he could. He could have burgers without fries if he wanted. He could have hotdogs without mustard, oreos without milk, peanut butter without jelly, coffee without tea. It just … could never be the same.

~

His stomach was growling now.

All of them, the hyungs, maknaes, Manager Kang and the whole Live on Earth family, were walking towards the departure gates. It was past lunchtime though, and they hadn’t eaten lunch. It wasn’t right.

He saw a shop full of cakes as he walked past the fans. His stomach growled even louder. He wanted to get some, especially those rainbow ones, because he wanted to show Junhong. And because Youngjae loved them.

But there was no way through the horde of fans, even with security guards a head taller and twice as wide as he. They were jostling and pushing each other, trying to get close. Close to him.

He used to be afraid of fans. He wasn’t anymore. But when he stopped to think about it, he sometimes thought he should be.

“Hey! _Yuan yang_!” someone called out. Daehyun turned around to look, curiously. Did people here just beckon to their favourite food as they walked past it? He wouldn’t be surprised.

But no. The person was looking at him and waving. It was one of the crew members from Singapore. He waved back.

But wait — she was beckoning someone over. Three or four of the Singapore crew appeared, and they all started giggling and pointing at him and somewhere to his left.

He turned to look where they were pointing. Oh.

“Hey, Jae,” he said. “They’re calling us coffee and tea.”

“Huh?” said Youngjae, taking one earphone out and looking up. “Oh.” He grinned. “Mandarin ducks.”

Youngjae nodded and waved at the group. They waved back. He shot Daehyun a look, put his earphone in and continued walking.

Daehyun jogged after Youngjae. “Everything is gonna be alright,” he sang in English. “Everything is gonna be alright.”


End file.
